Let’s all agree on this one central idea, this keystone of the human condition: it’s no mystery that there are a lot of d-bags out there. I encounter several just on a five minute trip to Starbucks. Very much like a moo-moo on Old McDonald’s farm, they’re here, they’re there, they’re everywhere. And because it’s our right afforded to us by the Constitution of this great nation (which everyone seems really, really well-versed in these days) we have the unique freedom to say whatever the hell it is that pops into our d-bag brains. Isn’t that magical? I can spout off all day long about economics, thermodynamics, thigh gaps, carbohydrates, the military, the common core, Creationism, evolution, whatever it is that I may know little or nothing about. I can do that and create a hashtag for it and link to an article on Upworthy and attach a picture of a sad, abused animal. That’s some 21st century shit right there.

And what are you going to do about it? I bet your blood pressure is going to go up a little bit when someone says that you have no idea what religious liberty ACTUALLY MEANS or that the Earth has only been around for a few thousand years or that Bill Clinton was the best president we’ve had in decades. What are you going to do about it? You’re going to waah waah waah all over a piece of paper and pitch it to Thought Catalog. Or how about, HOW ABOUT we stop allowing ourselves to become offended? How about we control the only thing we can in these situations, which is how we react to the billions upon billions of opinions everywhere in the world? Right?!

Anybody want a peanut?

I’m working on it, I truly am. And I hope others will, too. Think of the shitload of free time you’ll have when you’re suddenly not compelled to write all those angry articles or rude comments or hateful letters to faceless corporations. All that time you spent furrowing your brow and foaming at the mouth could’ve been spent drinking moderate amounts of whiskey and catching up on The Walking Dead before Season 5 premieres. Sounds like more fun to me, especially since those new people they met at Terminus are totally cannibals. Plus that’s really going to free up my Facebook feed for more videos of cats trying to jump onto things and failing.

Like this:

There are many questions that may forever remain unanswered. Do aliens exist? Why do people choose philosophy majors? Why did George Eads choose that super weird hair and mustache combo in Season 6 of CSI: Las Vegas? And last but not least, how do I find love? Will I ever find love? Is there anyone out there for me? Now there’s a deep well to fall in to. There are plenty of magazines and books to read which will tell you all the dos and don’ts. Just go ahead and disregard all of that nonsense. These few tips are about all you’ll ever need to know about the keeping and the cultivating of love and companionship.

Regardless of what you learn from fast food restaurant commercials, do NOT put bacon in your pockets to attract men. Or women for that matter. Especially if you live in an area heavily populated with coyotes or angry badgers. (Note: Wisconsin residents and Packers fans in general shall disregard this rule)

Do not, under any circumstances, approach a man who has a briefcase at a bar. Or a manbag or whatever. Maybe he’s dressed in a suit, maybe he just got off of the train because he is a commuter and makes a lot of money doing businessy stuff in the city but lives in the suburbs because he prefers a slower and quieter lifestyle. Oooh, how delightful. BUT, not like I’m speaking from experience here, chances are that one peek in said briefcase and you’ll find handcuffs, knives to flay the flesh off bones, warm water enemas, his neighbor’s dead cat and a box of Barnum’s Animal Crackers.

Your happy little trees can go fuck themselves

If you’ve successfully met someone who hasn’t stolen your wallet or attempted to murder you, a date is in order! Hooray! If a meal is on the docket for date number one, do NOT use a toothpick at the table. Even if there is an entire stalk of broccoli between your canine and your left lateral incisor. I cannot stress this enough. And I’m not just talking about toothpicks. Dental hygiene of any kind shall not be conducted in front of suitor #1; including, but not limited to: using fingers, floss, string, forks or any other instrument to extract food particles from teeth, gargling and/or swishing of fluids, any sucking on or cleaning of the teeth with tongue, so on and so forth. Some of you are thinking ‘why is she wasting my time with this?’ BUT SOME OF YOU are thinking, ‘OH! So I shouldn’t do that?!’ If I’ve stopped just one person from conducting a full tableside dental exam in front of God and everyone else at Applebee’s, I’ll call that a win.

Can everyone agree to not discuss exes on the first date? I understand you are still hung up on Suzie; she was wonderful, almost perfect. But I don’t want to hear about your time in the Peace Corps together or her amazing job in the city or how she ran the Chicago Marathon. Hell, the last time I ran was through an alley trying to escape a gaze of hungry raccoons that wanted my pastrami on marble rye. Let’s focus a bit more on ourselves and a little less on Suzie. Eyes on the prize.

Jokes are great. Everyone likes jokes. But there are types of jokes that are not particularly well suited for first dates or second or third or hundredth dates. Such topics include, but are not limited to: racism, rape, semen-all-over-the-place, knock-knock, etc. Boys, I’m looking at you here. Though, to be fair I’ve known quite a few gals who have told some pretty heinous knock-knock jokes.

I realize that not many people have an arsenal of funny yet non-offensive jokes at the ready. So I have one to tell you, and feel free to use it. It’s basically a surefire panty-dropper: So a guy is sitting at home and watching TV when the doorbell rings. He opens the door but nobody’s there. He looks around for a package but sees a snail instead. He picks it up and throws it across the street. About a year later, the guy is sitting, watching TV again when the doorbell rings. He opens the door and it’s the same snail. And the snail says to him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”